Gran has been very quiet since her . . . braille time. Too quiet. With a dry throat, I go to check on her.
First, her room. It must be said that no sane person would believe that anything but a voodoo priestess lives in this room. My grandmother follows the Obeah religion of the Caribbean. Knowing that doesn’t prepare me for the broken glass and what looks like bird beaks in a bowl sitting on her bedside table. The smell is funky, like cigars and burning feathers. Gran looks like a big hat-wearin’ Southern Baptist on the outside. But on the inside, she’s . . . witchy. In a good way.
Fingering the charm bracelet she made for me this week to, as she put it, ward against the loitering of foreign spirits, I retreat backwards out of the room. You and I were both born with the caul, she said, referring to the rare veil of membrane over our faces when we were born. For those of us with the veil, the spirit world is much easier to see. You’re a strong young woman, but right now your strength is a sputtering candle, and I’m afraid for you.
Eerie feelings quiver through me as I recall her words. I run out to search the rest of the house, with my chest constricting more by the minute. I call her name throughout the house and the backyard with no answer and no sign of her.
I’m running now, with no idea where she’s gone except the wide-open front door. I fly through it and run smack into Dom. We collide like meteors, sparks and melting rock. His arms stay tight around me.
“Baby. Oh, girl. I’ve been out of my mind.”
There are tears in his voice as my face presses against his chest. I hear Dom’s heartbeat. Do people know what a lullaby their heartbeats are? Life has many sounds and chords, but none are possible without the drumming of the heart. I lean into it like a baby in its warm, watery womb. It feels so good to be held.
He pulls my head from his chest, and for some reason all I can think of is us in the mirror. The vision of his hands on my lips and wandering over my body. It’s surreal. I watch the trajectory of his eyes and notice them land on the large bandage on my left cheek. There is no narrowing of his eyes or fear that I’m forever changed. I’m grateful for that. But I’ve changed in ways he can’t see.
“Nothing is more beautiful than you standing here. I thought you were dead,” he barely chokes out. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” I say. Because what else is there to say? It isn’t fair to blame him for my choices. I square my shoulders. “You know I can’t see you anymore.” I expected it to hurt the first time I saw him, I expected it to hurt to say those words, but I’m shocked that I don’t hurt. I’m ice?cold. Numb.
Dom steps back like I’ve hit him.
“My father?—”
He waves his hand. “It’ll blow over with your father. I just came from speaking with him. He’s still pissed as hell, but damn, he knows as well as anyone that you are your own woman. I’ve apologized for putting you in the situation in the first place. He knows you make your own choices, babe. Even when it comes to seeing me.”
I pull away from his warm arms. “I can’t deal with you?—?us?—?right now. I have an emergency. I can’t find my grandmother. She’s vanished. I have to go look for her.”
“I’ll help you.”
I sigh. It’s exactly the right answer but also the one that will get me into trouble. However, I’m more scared for her than I am for myself. “Okay. Thanks. Let’s go find her.”
We speed away on his motorcycle because that’s all he’s got and my car keys have been confiscated. The road leading to my house is paved, but that’s being kind. I wonder if they just poured concrete over the jutted dirt and called it good. The desert stretches out around us for miles. If she wandered off into the waving heat . . . I swallow hard and push the thought away. My teeth rattle over the bumps, each one making me grip Dom’s waist tighter. I want to close my eyes and lean into his back, but I’ve got to keep watch. “A bit more,” I yell to him. “Then we should turn around and check the other way.”
As I’m about to tell him to do that, I see the flash of police lights ahead. My stomach churns like I’ve swallowed squirming parasites that live off stress. Dom must notice too; the motorcycle speeds up. I breathe a little easier as we approach, because my grandmother is standing next to the patrol car, speaking animatedly with one of the officers. Thank God she’s okay.
Dom holds out his hand to help me off the bike. “What’s that on your grandma’s chest?” he asks as I swing my legs over the seat.
It’s not clearly visible from where we’re standing, and the cop keeps blocking my view, but it looks like a large white paper hangs over her ample bosom. I run over to the other officer, whose face is pink with a sheen of sweat. “That’s my grandmother. Is she okay?”
The cop nods and swipes his brow with his forearm. “Thankfully, yes. But she shouldn’t be wandering around out here alone. This is the desert.”